roses are red, mirrors are brutal...🌹🪞

, here’s my solemn promise:

Today’s email will be like nothing else you read in your inbox this month.

Probably this year.

Because, honestly? I don’t think past-me would’ve ever believed I’d be writing this.

But before I dive into the slightly uncomfortable, slightly transformative, and completely unexpected topic at hand, I need to say thanks.

Your replies to last week’s newsletter—the notes, the stories, the “holy sht, I felt this exact same thing” messages—cemented my hunch that you’re some of the most self-aware, quietly resilient, and (frankly) overqualified-for-this-wellness-journey people on the internet.

So, in honor of that—and because I know you’re not here for another “3 ways to practice self-care this Valentine’s Day” email—let’s talk about something else.

A mirror.

More specifically, me standing in front of one.

Bare.

No distractions.

No quick fixes.

Just me. And 15 long, silent minutes. 😵

I wasn’t exactly in a “self-love era” when someone suggested this exercise.

My relationship with my body felt… strained. Like something I had to manage. Fix. Outsmart.

So when they told me to stand in front of a mirror for 15 minutes and just look at myself, I thought:

Okay, sure. What’s the worst that could happen?

Maybe I’d have some deep, healing moment. Maybe I’d unlock some profound self-awareness.

Or, you know, maybe I’d just stare at myself for 15 minutes and walk away with a new insecurity.

So there I was.

Me. My bathroom.

Just me and my reflection—nowhere to hide.

And suddenly, that mirror felt less like a mirror and more like a magnifying glass over my entire existence.

The second I locked eyes with my own reflection, it hit me—this wasn’t just about looking. It was about seeing. And suddenly, those 15 minutes felt a lot longer than they should.

I set the timer. Took a breath. And braced myself.

Minute one: Why am I doing this? Is this what rock bottom looks like?

Minute two: Am I supposed to feel something profound, or am I just embarrassing myself in front of… me?

Minute five, and I had officially cycled through self-consciousness, boredom, and the kind of existential dread that only comes from prolonged eye contact with yourself.

Minute eight: Betrayal. My brain turned against me.

God, I look exhausted.
Should I start face yoga?
Maybe if I cut out sugar?
No, wait—should I be doing lymphatic drainage?
Why are my hips so high?
Wait—do I have fat ankles?
IS THIS JUST WHAT MY FACE LOOKS LIKE NOW??

The thoughts spiraled, like a slideshow of everything I was supposed to fix.

And then—somewhere around minute twelve—I caught my own eyes.

And suddenly, it wasn’t just me standing there.

It was every version of me.

The younger me.
The overworked me.
The successful me.
The me who had spent years nitpicking, fixing, shrinking.

And for the first time, I saw her. Not as a project. Not as a “before.” But as a person.

And then, out of nowhere, a quiet thought surfaced: What if I looked at myself the way I look at the people I love?

Because here’s the thing—I have never looked at my best friend and thought, "Her body should be different."

I have never stared at my mom and thought, "She should be further along in life."

I have never looked at a stranger in a coffee shop and thought, "Wow, she has nice eyes but a bad jawline, so I guess it cancels out."

And yet, I had spent years—maybe decades—doing exactly that to myself. Picking apart every detail, every so-called flaw, without ever really seeing myself.

After that moment, I started asking my clients to do the same exercise. Their reactions? All over the place. Some felt the same immediate discomfort I did—shifting between self-consciousness, boredom, and quiet panic. Others went completely blank, like their brain refused to recognize the person staring back at them.

And then, there was Ambereen.

She tried the mirror exercise. And when she messaged me afterward, her words stopped me in my tracks:

That one hit deep.

Because when was the last time you actually saw yourself—without immediately scanning for flaws?

The five pounds that weren’t there before.
The fine lines that apparently everyone is getting Botox for.
That nagging feeling that something is off, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

We spend so much time fixing ourselves that we forget to actually see ourselves.

So, let’s try something different.

Before the flowers. Before the dinner plans. Before the grand gestures.

Before you do anything else—

Go stand in front of the mirror for 15 minutes.

Okay, fine… maybe 5. But at least long enough to really look.I know.

It sounds strange. And uncomfortable. And mildly ridiculous.

But so did therapy, and journaling, and drinking a green smoothie for the first time.

And we survived those, right?

So, set a timer. And just… look. Just you and the mirror.

And if that moment of softness comes—the one where you see yourself the way the people who love you see you—let it in.

Because , let’s be real—if there’s one relationship that shapes everything in your life, it’s the one you have with yourself.

And if actually feeling good in your body—not just tolerating it—is something you want more of… consider this your official invitation.

For the next 24 hours, I’m opening up my calendar for a few free wellness coaching calls. No strings. No weird sales pitch. Just a one-on-one conversation about you—where you’re at, what’s keeping you stuck, and how we can get you feeling better (without adding 14 more things to your to-do list).

Because listen—you deserve the flowers. The dinner. The romance.

But more than that, you deserve to feel good—not just for a day, but every single day.

Like waking up with energy that doesn’t require three shots of espresso.
Like feeling at home in your body, instead of at war with it.

Let’s make that happen.

👉 Book your free session here 👈

I know Valentine’s Day can bring up a lot.

Maybe you’re wildly in love. Maybe you’re wildly over it. Maybe it’s complicated. Maybe you’re just here for the chocolate sales tomorrow.

But no matter what this day means to you, I hope you take at least one moment for yourself—to look, to breathe, to notice.

Because you, ?

You’ve always been worth seeing.

Talk soon,
- Genta 💕

P.S. If you try the mirror exercise, I’d love to hear what comes up for you. Hit reply and tell me. Or just reply with a single emoji that sums it up. (I’m predicting at least a few 🫠.)